


A Lesbian, A Jock, And A Fuckshit Friendship

by shrscln



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie Andrews is a Good Friend, Archie Andrews-centric, Cheryl Blossom is a Good Friend, Gen, IT'S PLATONIC, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned Toni Topaz, POV Archie Andrews, Riverdale High School, Soft Archie Andrews, Soft Cheryl Blossom, cheryl blossom & archie andrews friendship, happy cheryl blossom, lesbian and dumb jock adventures, what she deserves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrscln/pseuds/shrscln
Summary: Ever since they became friends, Archie's realized he needs to make a list of the antics he and Cheryl get up to whenever they're within each other's vicinity, with each chapter a new and different incident. The list just seems to keep on going, not that Archie or Cheryl are complaining.[Riverdale but like...retold with good plot lines and character development.]
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Cheryl Blossom, platonic charchie
Kudos: 4





	A Lesbian, A Jock, And A Fuckshit Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is set specifically after the Carrie musical episode.

It’s Wednesday evening. Actually that’s a lie, it’s technically Thursday morning when Archie checks the time; his phone lights up and ‘2:25 AM’ blinks back at him. _Huh_. He wipes off the dew settling onto the screen before putting his phone back into his pocket. He can see his breath materialize with every exhale he takes, and he watches the white mist evaporate. He’s been counting them for so long, he stops after Mist Fifty Two.

‘This is boring,’ Cheryl is sitting next to him, staring at two lipstick sticks in her hand, ‘Which shade looks better with this outfit?’

Of course she’s dressed up, in a fur coat, two sweaters, and the reddest pair of gloves in existence. Archie would only ever be surprised if she _didn’t_ wear something that cost a semester’s worth of college tuition. But her fur coat went really well with the dark browns of the sweaters she had on so he doesn’t complain. She shows him the two lipsticks.

Archie blinks.

“I like the red one.”

Cheryl blinks back at him.

“Archie they’re both red.”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Are you saying something Andrews?”

Archie can see her start to smile, and smiles back. Their friendship skyrocketed the beginning of his junior year when they were paired together for a Literature project. They had a week to submit a five page analysis paper on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, and Archie had offered to spend the weekend meeting at Pop’s to finish it.

“Don’t fret muffin boy,’ Cheryl said, already packing her books, “Leave it to me and we’ll get an A.”

“What-wait, this is OUR paper. I want to help.”

“And risk you sabotaging my precious GPA? I think not.”

“What makes you think I’m bad at English Lit?”

Cheryl raised an eyebrow. She didn’t even say anything but Archie could tell she knew he was bluffing. And she was right. He had a C in English Lit, which bothered him because he actually liked English Lit, and he had all these great ideas but could never keep his thoughts grounded enough to write them out. He got lost easily, according to his teacher, but his heart was there. And Cheryl knew it. She was present in every single class and sat next to him, explaining to him in agitated whispers how plot points link, how structure shapes the emotion of a poem, and how to apply every literary device known to man while he tried to annotate pages of literature.

“Okay fine, you can help me out while we write this together, you can add tutoring onto your list of achievements. But you’re not doing this alone.” Archie gave her a slip of paper with his number scribbled onto it then picked up the sheet with the sonnet printed on, “Besides, I’m pretty sure this guy has nothing on Archie Andrews.”

“It’s Shakespeare’s sonnet.”

“Yea I know the title, I’m talking about who wrote it.”

Cheryl’s face visibly went through the five stages of grief, but Archie could see her trying not to smile. _Gotcha._ She patted him reassuringly as if he were a wounded bird, and told him he better be at Pop’s at 7pm sharp for his own sake, and they’d kept in touch ever since. 

Then, a few days ago, Cheryl called him and asked (sort of demanded) for his help.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They’re sitting on the steps of his front porch now, waiting. Archie can’t even see down the road thanks to all the fog. He wanted to go inside but according to Cheryl, the delivery should be coming any minute and she wants to catch the guy as soon as he arrives.

“Don’t you write music, Ginger Boy?” She says suddenly.

“Huh?” _Yes you do,_ “Oh yea, I do.”

“Fun. I have a proposition for you,” She’s applying lipstick (Archie can't tell which one she picked) and talking at the same time, “In return for me humbly offering my services as a tutor for you in English Lit-”

“You didn’t off-”

“-You owe me a song request. And mind you I expect nothing but excellence in your performance, or I’ll be very-” She leans over until their noses almost touch and pats his shoulder a little too aggressively, “ _very_ disappointed.”

She puts the lipstick she was applying back into her purse and proceeds to pull out a stack of cards. Despite her collected manner, posture upright and body posed down to the very angle of her folded leg, Archie could tell she’s nervous. He’s learnt to pick up a lot of the hints she tends to drop when her mood shifts. Her eyes were flickering quickly between the cards, her purse, the ground, and anything else that wasn’t Archie. The corners of her mouth had twitched downwards. And while a lot of people would mistake her behavior for cold hearted bitchiness, Archie sees a completely different story; she’s shy because she’s asking for something special, so she's overcompensating. Despite it, she seems so poised against the now fading fog.

He raises an eyebrow at her and grins. Cheryl doesn’t waver; she doesn’t even hesitate to look right back at him with a smile, almost challenging him to push her further.

“Wanna tell me for what reason you want a song?”

“None of your red-headed business.”

Archie doesn’t want to point out that she is also a redhead, but she’s hellbent on winning. They stare at each other for another minute.

“Fine, sure.” Archie cracks in the awkward silence. He always loses. Cheryl lets out an excited noise and claps her gloved hands, then starts distributing the deck of cards in the space between them with a beam on her face.

The sound of an engine stirs the both of them. The weather had started to clear, so Archie could see down the road now. A dark green car tumbles towards them. Based on Cheryl’s disappointed look, it wasn’t the delivery. And based on how agitated she suddenly seems, whoever they are clearly aren’t her favorite people. The car slows as it drives by. A pink-haired girl Archie vaguely remembers from Jughead’s school calls out.

“Hey! Seen Jughead?” She says.

“Don’t you have a store to rob?” Cheryl calls out to her in a cold tone. 

“Yea, I’m looking for your dad since he’s got experience.” The girl calls back.

“Ugh! Go back to the sewer you crawled out of, snake!” 

Archie says "I haven't seen him." The girls look at him. He coughs, awkwardly in the middle of this interaction and wanting it to end already.

The girl, unphased, sticks her middle finger out at Cheryl then turns the driver for a brief moment. The car stops as they chat in hushed tones. Then they both drive away, the noise fading until the two are eventually left alone in the sleeping neighborhood.

“Thank God,” Cheryl says, perky again and taking off her coat, before picking up and looking through her cards.

“Um, what was that?”

“I was addressing the nuisance until it disappeared, Archie dear. They need to be put in their place if they’re to integrate into a higher class society, agreed?”

Oh, right, the Southside kids have moved to Riverdale High. Archie is aware of Cheryl’s hesitation towards newcomers from the wrong side of the town. She hasn’t told him, but he knows it’s probably because school of all places is one of her safer comfort locations and new problems are not something she wants. But he also sees the flustered way she's looking at her shoes.

He cheekily pokes her shoulder and says, “They don’t seem that bad.”

“‘That bad’?! Do you hear yourself?! We allow heathens into our lands first, what’s next? Drugs in the halls? Fights like the one just now but multiplied across the school? Or worse, more Jughead-like hobos?!”

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t all like that, Cheryl.” Archie is trying his best not to laugh, enjoying her reaction.

“Based on our chat with Barney I doubt that.” Cheryl says.

“I guess that girl was pretty bitchy. I mean, who is she, yknow?”

“Only the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes upon,” Cheryl replies, annoyed, before quickly putting down an eight of diamonds, “Your turn.”

Okay, now Archie is completely confused. He usually is when he’s with Cheryl, often in good fun because he can somewhat keep up, but he definitely is thrown off now. Cheryl stares at him. A heartbeat passes before he goes “Oh!” as his face goes through seven different phases.

“What ‘Oh’? Play your turn, preferably in a silent manner, Andrews.” Cheryl is still trying to act oblivious but her cheeks are starting to match the color of her gloves. Archie just says nothing to follow up but smiles, cheeky, knowing it will drive her crazy. Plus, he couldn’t play his turn because he doesn’t even know what card game they’re playing.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to text Jughead as she rattles on in the background. His phone is damp thanks to the incoming warmth.

**3:16AM: Pink haired girl at ur old school. Know her?**

Cheryl’s talking in a slightly faster, more agitated tone now, “Listen, you’re what, some straight guy having an epiphany that other people exist and are complex yet beautiful beings. Save it for a therapist-My God Andrews! Put your phone down already, what are-Stop what you’re doing, oh my God!” She swipes at him and makes a dive for the phone but Archie, now laughing, swings out of her reach. She’s smiling now, trying really hard not to laugh along with him.

“Barney, yea? Come on Cheryl, tell me-Ha! Stop!” She’s taken her gloves off and is trying to smack him now, but the sound of their laughter hides the _thwack_ of the gloves against his jacket and fills the silence of the neighborhood. For a minute there was no Riverdale, only two teenagers and their warm laughter. Cheryl starts laughing even more, and it’s fresh and contagious and it keeps him laughing and that keeps her laughing too, and it makes him feel awake, it makes him feel human, and it makes them feel _good_.

“You are ridiculous,” Cheryl coughs from laughing so hard. She moves a few misplaced strands of her hair back in place as she settles down, before her eyes move behind him. Archie turns just as he hears it; another car.

“The delivery!!” Cheryl leaps up and practically flies to the curb where a white van is pulling up, giggling the whole way. Archie trots up to help and sees her moving two gallons out of the van with the help of a tired and confused delivery driver; he picks the gallons up and they take off to his backyard. Cheryl is smiling so hard she’s practically glowing. He wishes time could freeze that feeling they're both feeling.

“So, your turn Archie. Tell me about your life. How’s Veronica? Or Betty?” 

_Shit._ Archie blanks now. Cheryl’s smirking, but her eyes are soft. Archie knows she won’t push if he told her not to. He lays the gallons onto the wet grass.

“Uh, yea, she’s good.”

“Who?”

“Um, both. They’re good. I guess. I don’t know.” And he really doesn’t. Things seem to happen so quickly, too quickly, and he can’t ever seem to keep up.

Cheryl pats his back and nods reassuringly.

“People, life, it’s always changing. The heart says a lot we don’t understand. It’s hard to embrace it instead of sitting in the uncertainty. Alas! We have more important matters to attend to anyways.”

Archie is grateful for her friendship, and even more so for changing the subject, “Yea, um, do you really want to scare your mom like this?”

Cheryl’s already taking layers of clothes off to reveal a dress underneath.

“Fuck that she-devil. Now, coat me Andrews.” She fixes a strand of hair and stands up tall.

Archie can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculously confident she is. 

“Okay your Highness.” He picks up a gallon. The smell of fake blood fills his nostrils. It makes him feel as if he’s standing in a pig pen in the middle of an expired fruit aisle at the store. _Gross_. But, Cheryl was right; fuck that she-devil.

“So, when do you want that song covered by?” Archie says as he carefully pours fake blood onto Cheryl. It seeps through her soft hair and sticks to her pale skin. He spots a small bud growing in the grass next to his shoe, happy for the wave of warmth.

“Ideally, a week.”

“Okay.” Archie empties the first gallon and picks up the other. There’s a red circle of goo in the middle of all the greenery, oozing onto the grass. The flower bud Archie saw remains unscathed, swaying softly as weak gusts of wind start blowing by. Cheryl is quiet, her calm demeanor odd to Archie. She watches him pour across her dress, her eyes dark as they peek out from blood stained eyelids, cheeks, and matted hair. He carefully places the second gallon down and surveys the outcome.

Cheryl looks like she came straight out of Carrie, which is fitting since they just did the play for it. Her skin is so white against the blood dripping down her face, she almost seems transparent. Archie can hear the _plip plip plip_ of red droplets as they fall. Her dress color is basically unrecognizable with how much fake blood there is on it. Despite the sticky gooey mess, Cheryl is smiling, white teeth standing out against bloody cheeks.

“Exemplary work, I expected nothing less from my lost but kind straight best friend.”

Archie can’t help but laugh. She looks like _that_ and then says _this_ , it makes it hard not to at least chuckle. Cheryl giggles back. They collect a bunch of towels Archie laid out and head to his car to drop Cheryl off.

“Okay,” Cheryl lays the towels around the passenger seat, somehow being elegant and clean in the process despite looking like she fell into a tub of paint, “Let’s go scare the hell out of mumsie. What’s the agenda for next week?”

“Blowing up a mobster’s car.” Archie says.

“Exciting! Can’t wait. Text me or end up dead.”

Archie can’t help it and says “Don’t come to my funeral.”

They laugh as they hop into the car. Archie’s phone vibrates as he’s buckling his seat belt. It’s Jughead’s reply;

**3:40AM: Yea, Toni Topaz. She’s a Serpent. Why?**

Archie feels his smile widening. His car stinks of fumes and dirt, the radio is playing an old cheesy love song, and a girl covered in two gallons of fake blood is sitting in his passenger seat at 3 in the morning. And yet he hasn’t had this much fun since he could remember. He shoots Jughead a text back before tossing his phone in the backseat and backing out of the driveway, rolling his window down to welcome the warm breeze;

**3:41AM: Does she like guitar?**

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed my fic then I send you a big hug and thank you!  
> Important characters like Toni will be included (with speaking lines lmao) but this is just to set up Archie and Cheryl's friendship and establishing some world building through Archie's perspective.
> 
> You can send a tip [here](https://ko-fi.com/serrasaclone) , and can give feedback on what more you'd like to see, or if you'd take commissions. I like hearing your thoughts!


End file.
